Poetry

midair

by

a pitcher has a unique position
the ability to control how the ball travels
the speed, the curve, a knuckle or none
the catcher gives the cue as to what might be best

ready at the mound
hand behind my back
waiting for the number, the cue
was that a one or a two
pull the ball up into my mitt
preparing to throw the arc
i release it, rolling through my fingertips
a launch into the unknown
hoping for a certain outcome
trusting the catcher to be there

but the bat strikes, loud and hard
sending it soaring past third base
leaving me hanging midair
for what I don’t suspect… a foul ball
a hit, but a strike nonetheless

was it a misunderstood hint from the catcher
or did I trust him too much with my ball
now the ball is out
and I’m caught midair

constant

by

The pier is always the same.
Resting on the beach, allowing the waves
to roll in underneath.

Every day it sees people gather in masses.
Every day it feels many footsteps.
Every day it hears much laughter and joy.

Every day providing a getaway,
letting those from all walks of life
walk across its timeless wooden slats.

But she is hardly ever the same.
Hair up, hair down, hair messy, hair prim–
never the same accessory.

Some days she looks at the waves.
Some days she arrives with friends.
Some days she tries to escape from the city.

Some days she’ll people watch,
letting her mind wander to their own stories
since she’s barely sure of her own.

But there is one thing that is constant—
her hope, her faith.
her love for the breeze about her face.

Today she looks up just waiting for the stars
to light up her sometimes dark night,
to remind her that her constant is always there.

lost key

by

found a key left lying behind
i wonder what it unlocks
perhaps a busted down car,
a home with a vast backyard,
the smallest of mailboxes,
or possibly the most evasive heart
but there’s no one around
someone left it sitting
with no prospect of returning
silver turned to copper
the weight of full disclosure
waiting just behind the ridges
now if i could find the lock
or even the one who left it behind
to learn what it unleashes

the sign

by

smile
have a nice day

that’s all it says
the piece of cardboard
you always hold onto
at the corner of the highway
a pavement cornerstone

you wave and smile
at every passing car
even past nightfall

i smile and wave back
hoping even that small gesture
can bring light to your night

have a nice day
smile

smoke & rain

by

let all the smoke out
the burning of sticks
wafting the deadly spell
an acrid stench lingers

breathe in the fresh scent
of the coming rain
clouds rolling over head
threatening a promise
to thirsty plains
pleading

just a drop
to quench

so much bigger

by

endless expanse of stars
blinking, shining, darting
burning into your eyes
begging you to just see
there’s something more
so much bigger than
the specks we are

we act and feel
we speak and listen
we watch and marvel
at more than just stars
but at a universe
so much bigger
than you and me

holding to habit

by

two feet
no steps
forward
none back
sand starts
to sink
under
the weight
of inaction

two hands
dangling
no itch
to pull
forward
content
in place
too much
stay still

one
soul
trapped
still
want
out
break
through
fight

because of fear
evasion in excuses
holding to habit
the less you know
shorter to fall

you never know

by

a chance to have a day
to do what i want
whatever i want
to go where i please
wherever i please
to visit any time
any time that i wish

only the next day
i won’t remember any
to take the plunge
or to not
for what’s it worth
if not for memories
to take with me
a whole lifetime

but i’d still take it
it’s a chance to take
a chance
try something new
perhaps daring
or enlightening
see another time
a passed relative
a neat celebrity
sing on a stage
in front of thousands
or even a re-do moment

something you want
a day to do as you please
even if forgotten
still could be worth it
something to remind
of that forgotten day
will still stir within
maybe in the next life
it will come back to us
for if the mind forgets
the heart and soul still know
that something happened
even if they don’t know
what it was

you may be able to feel
but you never really know

—

A post for Kellie Elmore’s FWF.

old vinyl

by

wake up with swollen eyes
as if i just got a tattoo
and didn’t i really?

not hurt from truth
but hurt from doubt
the fear of being broken

broken like old vinyl
played perhaps a bit too much
full of life and yet…

only some songs play
or stop playing
right before the chorus

wake up for something new
broken means fixable
don’t know how to look

what is wrong with you
people will ask
when everything is right

have i even found the answer?